Chapter 2
The clatter of plates and chatter of teammates fills the Irish pub as I slide into the worn wooden booth. Elbows knock and feet tangle under the table, already laden with steaming mugs of tea, plates piled high with sausage and eggs, as laughter bubbles over like the froth on Lily’s cappuccino.
“Dyl, pass the ketchup,” Jess says, her grin as cheeky as ever. She nudges me under the table with a sneakered foot. “Or what do you kiwis call it, Liv? T sauce?”
I toss Jess the bottle with a wink, while Liv nods excitedly.
“Careful, Jess, or you’ll get it on that brand new jersey of yours. How much did that cost you, anyway? Like two hundred bucks?” Official rugby jerseys can be a complete rip-off, but Jess knows we’re all not-so-secretly envious of her extensive collection, so she’s okay about us giving her a hard time.
She snorts. “Please, I could sauce up my entire uniform and still look better than you out on the field.”
“In your dreams!” I fire back, laughing and shaking my head. The banter comes as easily as breathing with this team. My team. But not for much longer. In fact, technically, as of this morning, I guess I’m not part of the team anymore. Even though I knew it was coming, I think I need food before I can fully process this.
I spear a sausage and swirl it in ketchup, my eyes roving over the familiar faces—some still flushed from practice, hair escaping ponytails, exhaustion etched in the shadows under their eyes. But the smiles come quick, and laughter is never far behind. A warmth fills my chest, even as I feel the undercurrent of something more substantial beneath our easy chatter. There’s a real camaraderie here, and an unspoken trust.
It feels like we’ve grown up together on this team, weathered injuries and victories, heartbreak and new beginnings. In many ways, they know me better than anyone. The thought is bittersweet. I take a bite of sausage to hide my sudden pensiveness. The explosion of familiar flavors of herbs and beef comforts me as I wonder whether I’ll ever have a chance to find something anything like this again. Life decisions are hard. Adulting is hard.
But, no matter what comes next, I’ll always have these memories—lazy breakfasts and bad jokes with the best women I know. My gaze catches on Liv across from me, and I grin through my full mouth. She scrunches her nose but smiles back, the moment stretching long and full between us. I can’t help but think about everything she gave up to move here to pursue her own rugby career. Leaving the lush Hobbit-like wonderland of New Zealand to join us in the Pacific Northwest must have been a tough decision, but we’re lucky to have her on the team.
Liv’s expression shifts, a touch of sadness in her eyes even as her smile remains. “So Dyl, have you told your new team you’re a total ball hog yet?” I know she’s sad I’m leaving, and humor has always been her way of deflecting her emotions.
I toss a piece of toast at her across the table. “Hey now, don’t go spreading rumors before I even get there! Or I’ll hunt down your Vegemite stash and replace it all with Marmite!” It’s a longstanding joke that Liv is a traitor to her country, preferring the brown, salty substance of Australian Vegemite over the equally salty yeast spread made in her home country. I don’t get the appeal of either, but people from her homeland tend to get quite fired up on the topic.
The team erupts into giggles and exaggerated accusations, the mood lifting even as I feel the undercurrent of wistfulness return.
“She’s right, though,” Stella says, leaning forward with her chin in her hand. “What are we gonna do without our star hooker controlling the scrum? Our captain guiding us to achieve greatness?”
I shrug, touched by her praise. “You’ll manage just fine, Stell. You’re all awesome at what you do, both individually and as a team. Though I don’t know who’ll yell at you all to get your heads in the game when you’re slacking off.”
“No one can shriek like you, that’s for sure,” Liv snorts.
“It’s not shrieking. It’s called projecting from the diaphragm!” I respond. She’s right, though. As much as I try to project a deep, authoritative tone when I’m yelling to the team, at some point I get a little nasally and… well, shrieky.
The conversation flows easily as we reminisce about games gone by, yet there’s no denying the lingering sense of things coming to an end. I meet Liv’s gaze again, seeing my own reluctance to leave mirrored there.
But change is coming, whether we’re ready or not. All I can do is appreciate these last moments together, and trust that the bonds between us will endure, no matter the distance. Nothing is going to make me prouder than seeing the team go on to succeed without me, even though I’m going to have massive FOMO.
“Well, I’m sure you’ll miss us terribly. Especially me. But at least you’ll have plenty of smoking hot male rugby players to keep you company,” Liv says, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
I roll my eyes, knowing she’s just trying to get a rise out of me. “Is that all you think I’ll be doing over there? Ogling men?”
“I mean, a girl’s gotta have some fun too, right?” she laughs.
“Look, I’ll be way too focused on training to get distracted by any of that,” I say dismissively. Though a part of me wonders if I’ll feel differently once I’m actually there, surrounded by athletic, driven people like myself. It would be nice to find someone with the same qualities that have been so hard to find in this town. Still, while it’s not why I’m going, it just might be a nice side effect of being there.
Liv scoffs. “Oh please, you’re telling me if some hunky flanker starts chatting you up, you won’t even be a little tempted?”
I toss a grape at her, which she catches deftly in her mouth. “Maybe I’ll be doing the chatting up,” I say with a wink. “Plus, my track record will show that I’m more of a fan of wingers.”
The team whoops and whistles, Liv’s eyes dancing mischievously. But underneath the joking, I know she’s poking at something real—my tendency to prioritize my professional goals over personal relationships.
“In all seriousness, though,” I say, “I just want to focus on becoming the best player I can be. The rest will fall into place… or it won’t. But rugby has always come first for me.”
Liv nods, a glimmer of pride in her eyes. She knows me well. And knows I’ve never been one to let a dick get in the way of my dreams.